


The Nasty

by UP2L8



Series: Multifandom Hentai Contest Entries [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless PWP with a side of humor. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nasty

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted August 19th 2014. Prompt #94: 'Nothing happened, I swear.'

It’s third shift, the night watch, and I’m at my station on the bridge. Sulu has gone for a break with the ensign manning the weapons console. First Officer Spock is in the big chair, watching the stars slide by on the main screen. And I’m watching him.

It’s hard not to, especially when he’s sitting so still, lost in thought. His face loses some of that tightly controlled detachment. His dark eyes soften as the human part of him sneaks out. His lips bow up, just a little. I wonder what he’s thinking, wonder what it would feel like to kiss him, wonder what it would take to break that rigid control, wonder –

“Perhaps you should take a holopic to preserve the moment, Lieutenant Uhura,” he says.

Busted.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I say. “My mind was wandering.” Into the gutter, I don’t say.

He lifts that skeptical, infuriating, suggestive, eloquent, beautifully sculpted, sexy eyebrow, and I lose it.

I land in his lap, knees bracketing his hips, hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t push me away. His hands settle on my hips, pulling me close. My fingers play up under his shirt, tracing a path along tight muscle to brush taunt nipples, savoring the sensation. His skin is surprisingly sensitive considering the man it covers. He leans in and I meet him halfway, our mouths coming together almost violently, lips and teeth and tongues. His expression never changes, but can I feel my effect on him pressing against me, hot and hard.

It’s easy to shift clothing out of the way thanks to the perverts who design Starfleet uniforms. Never have I appreciated them more. His cock is slick in my hand as I guide him to me, and I sink down to accept him with a sigh. He moves, slowly at first, mindful of my comfort. I don’t want comfort. I slam against him and he takes the hint. His fingers explore as he thrusts into me, teasing the place that makes me arch and moan.

It’s over quickly, both of us finding our release seconds apart. 

My head drops to his shoulder as he reaches into the chair’s convenient storage compartment for a tissue. This is James Kirk’s chair after all; it’s probably seen plenty of action and our Captain likes to be prepared. Spock pulls free and gently cleans me. I pull our clothing back into place. 

Then the turbolift doors hiss open, and Doctor McCoy breezes in, freezing as his eyes lock on us. I try to move from my Commander’s lap, but his hands hold me firmly.

The doctor looks at me. His eyes narrow. He walks around to the front of the command chair to confront his nemesis.

“What the hell, Spock?”

“Good evening, Doctor McCoy.” He says it like he doesn’t have a hot Communications Officer straddling his thighs.

“Not as good as yours, apparently,” the doctor shoots back. “You and Lieutenant Uhura were doing the nasty,” he accuses.

“You are mistaken,” the Vulcan tells him. “I’m not currently experiencing the pon farr, and therefore I’m not inclined to engage in ‘the nasty’. The Lieutenant is simply showing her appreciation for my inspiring leadership skills in a very human, and innocently affectionate manner. Nothing ‘nasty’ happened.”

I resist the urge to squirm as our Chief Medical Officer gives us the hairy eyeball.

“That’s a shame,” he says flatly. “I’d offer some advice, but I’m a doctor, not a sex therapist.”

Without a backward glance, McCoy leaves. Under the circumstances, he probably forgot why he came up here in the first place.

I look at Spock. He looks at me.

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“All things considered, Lieutenant, of course.”

“You once told me that Vulcans never lie.”

“That’s true. In a literal sense, what we did was . . . fascinating. To suggest that it was ‘nasty’ would be illogical.”

I smile. “So basically, Vulcans are perfectly capable of slinging impressive loads of bullshit when necessary.”

That infuriating eyebrow lifts.

Here we go again.


End file.
